God Must Hate Me
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: Life had this funny way of dumping all of its terrible tribulations onto Peter McVries, and an unrequited crush on another boy didn't exactly help things along. High school AU, one-sided Gavries. T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**disclaimer: the long walk is not mine.**

* * *

Nobody ever forgot the year Peter McVries brought a boy to the spring dance.

His name was Ray Garraty and he was a small, brunet boy who seemed to be the perfect archetype of the type of boy mothers wanted their daughters to date, and the type of boy which the daughters would dismiss as too boring.

No one was really sure how Pete had gotten him to come with him and abandon his tall, beautiful girlfriend, Jan. Not even Pete.

It had started out as a joke, a dare. Collie Parker was at fault, really, for daring him to ask the first person he saw to the stupid dance. And that first person had been Ray. Pete hadn't expected him to say yes, not to something as silly as a dared ask out to the dance that no one really wanted to go to anyways.

But he'd said yes.

He'd shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, "Sure." Pete had stared dumbfounded for a couple minutes, and then just nodded like it was something completely normal and an affirmative had been the plan all along.

But it hadn't been, and turning up in front of Ray Garraty's doorstep at six o'clock was more awkward than he'd thought it would be. His mother had said hello and called Ray downstairs, and Pete had awkwardly told him that he looked beautiful.

Ray had laughed and smiled at him, and that was when it hit Pete that he was in love.

The dance had been nondescript, neither of them really knew how to dance, but that didn't really matter because the majority of people at school dances tended not to. People were kissing around them, and there was an awkward moment of silence when Pete grabbed Ray and kissed him. Ray had looked at him, wide-eyed, but had continued to say nothing.

He'd had to remind himself that this was all a joking dare later on.

Normally he would have felt a little bad when he saw Garraty's girlfriend against the wall, looking miserable, but for once he didn't. Janice didn't matter to him. All that mattered for that time was Ray Garraty.

Ray Garraty, who was right now sitting in his car smiling at him as they drove back to his house. "Pete," he said suddenly. The way Ray said his name had started to make Pete feel like his heart would burst out of his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you kiss me back there?"

He sighed. "That's what people do at these damn things, isn't it?"

"I've got a girlfriend, Pete."

"Then why'd you come along with me?" McVries suddenly found himself snapping and then said, in a lower voice, "I mean, she looked a little sad. Are you just upset that I kissed you?"

"No, it's not that..."

"Oh, come on, it is that. I can tell."

He'd stopped the car so that they were sitting on the side of the road. "See, the thing is..." Ray sighed loudly. "Please tell me that this is a joke or something, Pete. Because I don't want to pretend to give you something that I can't give."

McVries stared at him, not really knowing what to say. After a few minutes of silence, he just shook his head. "Listen. We had a good time. But you need to get the fuck out of my car because I need some time to think about this."  
Ray's face was flustered and almost sad. "Listen, we can talk about it if you-"

"Get out. I told you, I need some time to think about this. Go find your girl or whatever." His voice was flat and defeated. It was Pris all over again. But this time nobody was cutting his face open with a letter opener."Look, I know I went too far with the whole kissing thing. I have a problem with that. Going too far, I mean. But we had at least a little fun, so just think about that when you're walking home."

Ray continued to stare at him for a few seconds, then opened the car door and stepped out, letting in a gust of cold night air. "Bye, Pete. Thanks for the ride, and the dance. I had fun." His voice was equally flat and defeated.

"Welcome."

Ray pushed the door shut and started down the road, and Pete just sat there, bathed in the monochromatic light of his shitty car.

There was some sort of underlying satisfaction in being rejected. Like there was something about you that was just so repulsive that it caused someone to not want to pursue you. Pete McVries had never known why he felt like that about breakups, but it was the way he felt.

Somebody rapped on the window of his car. He looked up to see Collie Parker with a girl and one of his friends behind him. Pete rolled the window down. "What do you want?"

"Hey, Pete." He was very obviously somewhat drunk from his slurred speech. "Look what we came across, Abe! Pete goddamn McVries sittin' all alone in his car." The girl giggled. Pete peered out the window at them and his face blanched at the sight of her. "Hey, Pris, ain't the two of you exes?"

Priscilla wrinkled her nose. "Who gives a damn."

"Hey, Pris," Pete said, feeling his face twist into a sort of a sick grin. "Long time no see."

"She's Abe's date," Parker said halfheartedly. "Ended up with me, though." Abraham shoved him. "Where's that guy you were with?"

Priscilla giggled again and Pete looked around awkwardly. "A guy, Petey? Really?"

"He leave you?" Parker asked. The best Pete could do was nod. "Tough shit. Hey, can we get a ride?"

"Sure, whatever." Abraham, Parker, and Priscilla piled into the backseat. "Where do you all live?" As they gave him directions, McVries put on the radio and started driving off into the dark. There was some stupid, sappy Taylor Swift ballad on and it was weirdly fitting to the situation.

"So, what'd you do to piss off that little guy?"

"Nothing much. Hell, it just..."

"You say something really shitty to him?" Leave it to Abraham to characterize him as the type of guy to say really shitty things.

"Nah," Pete said absentmindedly, his eyes focusing on the road. It wasn't like it was dangerous out there or anything, the worst that could happen was hitting a squirrel, which honestly might have been sort of satisfying for him, given what had happened earlier.

"Then what happened?"

"He just decided to walk home." It was close enough to the truth.

"Sure." The moment Pete leaned back to glare at Parker there was a loud yell of 'fuck!' from outside. It caused all the occupants of the car to jump and Pete to swerve away clumsily from whoever it was.

"Is that Gary Barkovitch?" Pete rolled down the window. "Hey, killer!" Barkovitch was known for having killed someone in a fight and having been in juvie twice.

"You almost hit me with your goddamn car, you piece of shit!" Barkovitch looked quite terrifying in the dark and seemed to fade away into the shadows as he scurried off.

"Well, sorry." No one was there to hear his apology.

"My house's right there," Parker said, gesturing out the window and nearly falling into Abraham's lap. Pete stopped the car and let them out, and caught sight of Ray's house fairly close by. He felt a twinge of remorse and thought of stopping by to apologize, but just let his ex-girlfriend and her double-dates out of the car.

Once they were out of the car, Pete let sad rock music drone from the stereo and continued driving through the dark.

* * *

**another multichapter jesus christ emma**


	2. Chapter 2

**disclaimer: the long walk is not mine**

* * *

Pete had left the curtains of his room open, and he was now suffering greatly because of it.

The six-in-the-morning light painfully forced him out of sleep, although his head didn't feel much clearer than when he'd been asleep. After a few confusing minutes of lying down and staring at the ceiling, he concluded that he had a terrible hangover.

He hadn't even drunk anything. As the events of the past night came flooding back to him, he decided that it was some sort of...rejection hangover. Was being rejected at a school dance a valid reason to call in sick?

Pete groaned and pulled himself up out of bed, walking a few steps and then just falling flat on his face on the carpet. With his face pressed into the dark polyester of the carpet, the full effect of what had happened last night hit him.

He was probably a joke. Parker had a big mouth, he'd probably tell someone like Curley or Gribble and then it'd get around to Ray's girl or that fucking Barkovitch. He grimaced at the thought of Barkovitch.

The door of his room opened with a loud creak. He was about to bark at whoever it was to fuck off, and then he recognized his five-year-old sister Katrina's voice. "Petey?"

"Hey, Katrina," he said flatly.

"Why are you lying on the ground?" She knelt down next to him and poked him gently, as though she was afraid that he was dead.

"I'm tired," he responded. It wasn't a lie.

"You should come have breakfast, Petey. Maybe you won't be tired if you eat." Katrina beamed at him and McVries stared up at her blankly.

"Yeah, sure, Katrina. Thanks." He grabbed the edge of the bookshelf for support and pulled himself up into a standing position. Katrina beamed again and raced downstairs, obviously very excited for breakfast. Pete followed, walking slumped over and half-asleep. God, he probably looked like shit.

He fumbled for a box of cereal and ended up pouring corn flakes all over the table in an attempt to get it into the bowl. Katrina giggled. "Pete, are you alright?" His mother was a tall woman who rarely showed much outward affection to him but fussed over Katrina so much that Pete actually felt sorry for the poor kid.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, brushing the corn flakes off the table and into his palm so he could throw them away.

"Where were you for all of last night?" She sounded surprisingly casual about how late her son had been out.

"School dance," he said nonchalantly.

Katrina frowned. "Did you dance with that nice boy who called us last night?"

There were a few minutes of silence. "What?" Pete finally said, trying very hard not to glare at his younger siste.

Katrina looked like she was about to cry. "We got a phone-call from a nice boy who asked if you were home and if he could talk to you. He said he was sorry for not wanting to dance with you and that he wanted to apologize. He said...he said he thought you were nice and that dancing with you was nice and even the kissing was nice." She stretched out the word apologize, making it sound far more complex than it really was.

Pete stared down at his cereal. "Oh, fuck it," was the first phrase that came to mind.

"Peter!" His mother glared at him. "Language!"' Then, after looking at how half-hearted her son looked, she added. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"A boy, Pete?"

"It was nothing. Look, I'm going to be late for school if I don't get dressed and shave now." He got up from the table, pushing his chair in loudly and leaving a bowl of soggy, unfinished cornflakes on the table.

After he'd gotten his tangle of black hair to look at least presentable and scrubbed his face thoroughly, Pete considered just going into his room and never coming out. He could just lie there on his bed for the rest of his life.

He shoved his shirt over his head and grabbed his bag off the hook on his door. When he strode through the kitchen, his father tried to say a hello to him but was quickly cut off by the slam of the door. Pete thought about walking to school, then decided "fuck it" and slid into his car. He'd paid for half of it with allowance, he'd might as well use it.

The drive to school was uneventful, he was the only one on the road and the houses were as drab and nondescript as usual. He stared at the road ahead of him, ignoring the houses and the possible people on the sides of the road. Hell, it was only around seven fifteen. He had a whole hour before he was even supposed to be at school. He stopped the car and just sat there for a minute, staring out at the road ahead of him. The suburban Maine neighborhood was nearly empty, and he found himself transfixed with the sheer emptiness of it all.

He was brought out of his trance by a rap on his window. He turned to see Gary Barkovitch standing there, his backpack slung over his shoulders and his small, intense face twisted into an expression of disgust.

"The hell do you want, killer?"

Barkovitch was the very definition of a bad guy. He'd killed someone in a fight, surprisingly enough with his small stature, and was, in general, a gigantic dick. "Hey, I saw you chaffeurin' around fucking Blondie and his gang, care to give me a lift, Scarface?" He had a habit of making up nicknames that he thought were insulting, although 'Blondie' wasn't exactly the most insulting thing Pete had ever heard.

"Get lost," he said irritably. "I'm not in the mood for your shit, killer."

"Say, if you don't wanna give me a ride, how 'bout a light? I could really use one right about now," Barkovitch said thoughtfully. He didn't want to ask what Barkovitch was doing wandering around aimlessly at seven AM. It was better not to ask, really.

"Sure, poison your lungs all you want," Pete muttered, fishing around in the glove compartment for a fresh pack of cigarettes. "Here. All yours."

"Thanks, Scarface. What happened to that dumb fucking date you had last night? The thick-looking little piece of ass who's with that blonde girl?"

"Shut up, killer." He pressed down on the gas pedal, leaving Barkovitch standing somewhat dejectedly by the side of the road. It was true. He wasn't in any mood for Gary Barkovitch. He stopped the car again and reached into the glove compartment to pull out his schedule. Shit. There was a track meet after school. He had track with Ray.

He pulled out his phone from inside his bag, staring down at his contacts list. He had Hank Olson, Abraham, and Pearson as people was at least acquaintances with on the track team. After a few moments of speculation, Pete picked Olson. He punched the number into the phone, and waited for a couple seconds before deciding on leaving a message. "Hey, Hank, old buddy." He knew that would get into Olson's skin. The bastard sort of hated him. "I've just got a teensy little request for you. If I don't come to track today, just tell 'em I'm sick, alright? Would you do that for me?" He let his voice become a slight falsetto in the last few words, just to piss Olson off further.

After hanging up, he sank back into the seat of his car and took a deep breath. In and out. That was how people were always saying to breathe.

He knew what people did to boys like him, boys who dared to break the sexual 'norm' of life. School was going to be hell. Pete breathed out again, then put his hands on the wheel and started in the direction of school. All of it was going to be totally, completely fine.

* * *

**um i really like writing mcvries he's kind of hard but really fun bye **


	3. Chapter 3

School was usually fairly drab for Peter McVries, and today was no exception. Some of the people he knew, people who were just too polite not to say hello, said hello to him at advisory and then went off to talk to the better friends than him that they most likely had. Occasionally a few people shot him glares or weird looks, but other than that, the hallways were mostly a safe zone.

He took a deep breath, and was about to walk to class when he spotted Ray leaning against his locker. Shit, shit, look the other way. He quickened his walking pace and tried to act like he was immersed in some sort of daydream.  
And that was when he walked straight into Ray.

Pete was about to apologize, but he'd shakily grabbed onto Ray's sweatshirt to support himself and the other boy appeared to be at a loss for words. There was almost comical silence between them as Pete kept his hand on Ray's shoulder and Ray just continued to look slightly stunned.

"Sorry," Pete finally managed, releasing his shoulder. Almost everyone else had already made their way into their classes, and that made their silence even more awkward and uncomfortable. "Uh. I need to get to class. See you." He turned around and started down the hall.

"Wait."

"Look, I don't need any more crap about last night, I got enough from my family."

Ray looked down, his face slightly red. "See, we...the thing is...I was mad about the kissing thing because, well...man, this is stupid." Pete treated him to a 'go on' expression. "That was my first kiss."

Pete laughed, although there wasn't much humor in it. "You think that's important?! First kisses don't mean a fucking thing! My first kiss was a girl whose name I don't even remember now! First kisses, first times, first, hell, first pregnancies don't even matter! They're just firsts!" He took a deep breath, laughing had left an irritating ache in his sides.

"I thought...because...my girlfriend...we've never..." Ray motioned with his hands. "We never even kissed."

"I'm going to let my suspension of disbelief kick in here."

"I just...I wanted to kiss Jan, first, and now she's angry at me for even accepting and god, I'm not even...I don't even know you, Pete."

Suddenly he was angry with Ray. Angry with Ray for treating love as something precious and special, because fuck, love was just the opposite, and just when Pete had had some kind of hope that it could be something more, Ray had gone and let him down. Life tended to do that, didn't it?

So Pete pushed him against his locker and kissed him. He knew that he'd probably very strongly regret this later, but for the moment, it didn't matter, because god, it felt good. Ray didn't try to force him away, but somehow his lips felt surprised and almost slightly terrified. His hands were tangled in Ray's hair and then it hit him that they were both probably going to get detention if they were any later.

"W-what was that?!"

"Proof that kisses don't mean anything. See you at track." He slung his bag over his shoulders and started off to class.

Seeing Ray in the hallways and at lunch with his friends and girlfriend was awkward, to say the least. It wasn't that Pete didn't have friends, per se, he just didn't have good friends. Parker and Abraham were probably the closest thing to real friends he had, and they were fairweather friends at best. Of course there was Olson, too, but Olson was an asshole, sure, a fairly dumb and harmless asshole, but if Pete could avoid him, he probably would.

So he usually ate outside on the bleachers, because, as pathetic as it was, it made him look like he had friends by sitting near the small groups on the bottom bleachers, but still allowed him to be left alone. At least, that was usually the case.

"Hello, McVries." Pete looked up from his lunch of salad and an overly caffeinated energy drink. The boy was one he didn't recognize. He looked like the type who got beat up a lot, skinny and blond and carrying a large pile of books.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I saw what you did to Ray Garraty this morning." The other boy smirked. "I'm not sure exactly what sparked that, but whatever it was, I'd warn you, he has a nice, pretty, Catholic girlfriend and has no need for the likes of you."

Pete felt his face heating up. "Answer my question. Who the hell are you and what makes you think you can just walk into my personal life like that?"

"Stebbins." Stebbins laughed. "I'm observant. I've grown to know quite a bit about you. Your hatred for Gary Barkovitch is...potent, to say the least, you're on the track team, you used to be dating Priscilla Mathers until she broke up with you and practically assaulted you with a letter opener-"

"That is really creepy. Look, I know about Ray's girlfriend."

"Cheating, eh? Do what you'd like, but that rarely turns out well." Stebbins sat down beside him. Pete noticed that he was clutching a Ziploc bag that contained a few jelly sandwiches. "Say, McVries, this question is bound to come up sometime, which gender do you prefer?"

"That's not your fucking business!" he snapped, scooting away from Stebbins. "What the hell do you want with me, anyways?"

"I only want to help you make sense of your situation."

"You some sort of relative of Barkovitch's? 'Cause you act just like him, that is, if he actually gained a vocabulary." Barkovitch's vocabulary consisted mostly of "fuck," outlandish insults, and then bouts of manic laughter.

Stebbins frowned. "I would like nothing to do with Gary Barkovitch, thank you."

Pete laughed, getting up from his spot on the bleachers. "Well, Stebbins, it's been fun, but I'd rather eat somewhere where questions about my personal life and issues aren't being thrown at me by someone I've never spoken to."

"Wait!"

"What is it?" Pete turned around to face Stebbins, who swallowed a large bite of his jelly sandwich.

"How would you like to know how Ray Garraty really feels about you?" Something about Stebbins gave Pete the impression that he was probably the type of person who burned ants under magnifying glasses as a child and probably tripped old ladies on the street. "Because I can find out."

"Do you have some sort of weird fetish for invading people's privacy?"

Stebbins flashed him a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "Well, see, the thing is, I know you can't resist my offer. You want Ray Garraty to love you back, because nobody has ever loved you back the way you've loved them. Oh, McVries...you're just the epitome of today's troubled youth, aren't you?"

"How the fuck do you know it's love?" He spat the word out like it was a particularly nasty type of disease. Stebbins' words felt like a slap in the face, and he told himself that it was only because Stebbins was an asshole and they were just general insults. "Fine, you want to find out Ray's deepest secrets. Go the fuck ahead, see if I care."

"Ah, denial." Stebbins sighed. "Thank you for your affirmation that you are, in fact, in love with him."

"You know what? Fuck you."

"Glad to hear it." Stebbins hopped to the ground, leaving Pete standing on the bleachers with a heavy feeling in his chest that he had a feeling would take a long time to go away.

* * *

**this chapter sucks also i accidentally made stebbins into izaya orihara**


	4. Chapter 4

Honestly, McVries didn't remember why he'd signed up for track. It had started out as his parents trying to push him into doing something extracurricular for "improving his social skills", and had turned into winning tournaments and flying effortlessly over hurdles, and _man_, he'd gotten good at this.

It wasn't really that he liked it that much. It was just running in short shorts and jumping over things. It was just better than stewing in his juices at home and accidentally making his sister cry and getting yelled at by his mother for things that he couldn't control.

"Pete, why the_ fuck_ did you send me a voicemail?"

The members of the track team weren't all that bad, either. "Hey, Olson. What's crackin', huh?"

"What's crackin' is that you fucking sent me a voicemail to try to tell me to vouch for you if you skipped class or whatever bullshit you were spouting there. The hell was that for, man?"

"Nothing. Just had a thought, but, as you so eloquently put it, it's bullshit now. C'mon, man, let's run a lap before the coach gets here."

Olson was a tall, stocky boy who thought he was a lot more intimidating than he really was. He had a mop of mousy brown hair and didn't seem to bathe very much. But he was alright, as people went. He was stupid, but not harmfully so, and he made for good company even though he and Pete yelled at each other a lot. And at least he wasn't as much of a ladies man as Parker or Abraham, and he was funny every once in awhile.

As he jogged next to Olson, Pete found himself scanning the group of boys for Ray. Ray ran a different event, so they had never interacted very much. He wondered where Stebbins was, and whether he knew about Ray being in track. That guy probably knew everything. Pete decided not to think about it. The very thought of Stebbins made him feel mildly like he was being watched.

"Hey, Hank, buddy, what event does Ray Garraty run?"

"The fuck do you want to know that for?"

"Just curious." So apparently Olson hadn't been at the dance. Either that or he'd forgotten. Honestly, Pete wouldn't put it past him.

"300-meter something. Dunno."

"That helps."

"Hey, I don't know the guy. His girlfriend's hot. She watches him run sometimes. Why don't you ask her sometime?"

"Yeah, no." McVries sped up his pace, hoping that Olson wouldn't start babbling about Ray's girl. After the events of the morning, she was the last thing he wanted to talk about.

Olson started panting visibly about a hundred yards in. Olson was a sprinter by nature, and despite the fact that he was a sweaty, panting, complaining mess in about five minutes, he just never seemed to give up. Pete swore that he could keep running if someone had stabbed him in the gut or something.

As they got about halfway around the track, Pete and Ray locked eyes. He had to admit that Ray looked _adorable_ in his tiny shorts and his oversized t-shirt. The boy's large, curious brown eyes kind of reminded him of a fawn's.

"Hey, Pete, look out!"

Before McVries had a chance to react to Olson's warning, he collided with one of the other group's larger hurdles and found himself spilling onto the maroon paving of the track. Pain shot through his right knee, and a few boys crowded around him. Damn. That had been a shitty move on his part.

Pete laughed nervously, looking up to notice that Ray was one of the boys that had crowded around him and was the first to react. "He just skinned his knee, I think he's okay. You guys don't have to crowd around. You're probably freaking him out."

Concern painted itself across Ray's sweet, innocent face. Ray was worried about him. Pete found himself grinning, but then Olson pushed past Ray and stared down at him. "Man, that was dumb. Try not to ogle the bleachers next time, okay?" Olson laughed. "Do you need any help getting to the athletic trainer's?"

Pete pulled himself up, and then noticed that Ray was behind him and conveniently doubled over onto the other boy.

Ray sighed. "You don't need to worry. I'll get him to the athletic trainer's, seeing as he seems to be more keen on me taking him."

Olson raised his eyebrows. Pete decided that it had probably been a bad idea to ask what event Ray had been in, because Olson probably thought something was up and would most definitely go and ask Parker or Abraham or really anybody, who would definitely tell him what had happened at the dance. Knowing Olson, he'd probably think they were making it up, but it was still a possibility and Pete really, really didn't want word getting around.

Ray seemed to be trying to support Pete without actually touching him, which was both incredibly awkward and extremely ineffective. "I don't bite, Ray. Honest."

"That's not what it seemed like earlier."

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm impulsive, okay? I go way too far too fast. It was a shitty thing to do. I just wanted to kiss you. Speaking of that, you've got nice legs." Ray raised his eyebrows. "I'm serious. Those shorts look great on you."

Ray looked kind of terrified but also kind of flattered, which Pete decided was better than just being terrified. And he'd seemingly gotten over his phobia of touching Pete, because he'd wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist and was sort of half-dragging him across the green faux grass of the field.

Things probably could have been worse between them.

* * *

**i can't find word count on microsoft word so this chapter is kinda short because i thought it was longer than it really is and yeah sorry about that**


End file.
